Soft: Cocaine Love Stories

by Styles, T.

  “You know what? Just fix my fuckin’ plate while I sort some shit out. While you at it, be thinkin’ ’bout five good reasons I should keep ya ass around.”

  How could I? I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stay around.

  When I walked into the kitchen, he followed me and an evil glare spread across his face.

  “Who the fuck been in my house?”

  When I turned my head and saw two plates and two cups on the table, I felt like bustin’ myself in the mouth.

  “Nicky’s greedy ass must’ve been over,” he offered.

  I felt as if a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders. “Uh, yeah . . . Nicky was here.”

  “Well, you coulda cleaned up. Pillows on the floor, dishes on the table . . . damn! Don’t start gettin’ nasty and shit.”

  My patience was runnin’ thin with him, and then his phone rang. From where I stood, I saw Tracey’s name flash on his iPhone and remembered I hadn’t had a chance to ask him about Denise.

  He stepped a few feet away from me and said, “What, Tracey?”

  He was silent as he paced the floor. “Well, I don’t know what I’m gonna do right now.” He looked at me out the corner of his eye and then turned around so I couldn’t read his lips. I followed him into the living room, hoping he’d give me some info about my baby.

  “Well, I’ont feel like talkin’ right now. You shouldn’t have been tryin’ to be slick by listenin’ to my conversation.”

  “Milli . . . is that Tracey?” He threw his hand up in the air. “Can I talk to her? I wanna speak to my baby.”

  “Didn’t you see my hand go up?” he said, covering the phone. I nodded. “Then shut the fuck up.”

  Directing his attention back to Tracey, he said, “I’ll rap to you later.”

  Their conversation sounded weird, and something didn’t sit right with me.

  “I don’t know if you know, but Denise is wit’ my cousin Tracey. That was her on the phone just now,” he said, sitting back in the kitchen, eating his food.

  “Is everything okay? ’Cause I wanted to talk to Denise.”

  “Everything cool, and Denise is ’sleep right now. I’ll call back tomorrow so you can speak to her. But don’t worry, she good.”

  “But I wanna speak to her now.”

  “Tracey, relax! I said I’ll call her for you tomorrow.”

  “Tracey?” I repeated. “My name is Ginger.”

  “You know what I meant. I get y’all names mixed up sometimes.”

  I didn’t believe him. Why didn’t I believe him?

  “Is everything cool between us, Milli?”

  “You gotta ask yourself that since you don’t listen. You quick wit’ the mouth and you got a temper. It’s ’cause of you CPS took my kid.”

  “They sayin’ she got crack in her system. Y’all cookin’ around her?”

  “Naw.” He paused. “And what happened to your face? That nigga who robbed you hit you or somethin’?”

  “Yeah.”

  He laughed and said, “See, that’s the shit I be talkin’ ’bout. Everybody not gonna let you run off at the mouth without consequences.”

  He didn’t even ask if I was okay. What kind of boyfriend is that? I was five seconds from tellin’ him how I felt when I saw a dude walk through my back door with a ski mask on. He locked the door and aimed the gun in our direction.

  In a deep, distorted voice he said, “I’ma make this quick. Get me the bag over there on the floor, and I’m out.”

  Milli tried to move for his gun, but the robber said, “Don’t fuckin’ move, nigga!”

  I was so scared I fumbled around and fell against the stove. When Gerron left earlier, I didn’t think to lock the back door, and now I’d have to pay for it again.

  “I don’t even know what you talkin’ ’bout, man,” Milli said. “That ain’t shit but clothes.”

  “Stop fuckin’ ’round! I already know what it is.”

  “Fuck!” Milli said, slammin’ his fist down onto the table. Food plopped off his plate and fell on the table and the floor. “Why the fuck you ain’t lock the back door?”

  Although the robber spoke in his fake voice, I figured it was Bodie. I never could stand that grimy-ass nigga! I was still cussing him out in my mind when I smelled his Dolce & Gabbana cologne.

  “Gerron, is . . . is that you?” I hesitated, hoping it wasn’t true.

  Silence.

  My eyes moved from the Jordans he was wearing that had sat next to my Dior heels earlier and the jeans I helped take off, to the hand, which had recently been all over my body, now holding a gun.

  “Why you doin’ this shit, Gerron?”

  He took the mask off and said, “I’m sorry ’bout this shit, Ginger. I know you don’t believe me, but I gotta do this shit.”

  The pain I felt in my heart hurt more than anything. “But what about . . . I mean . . . everything else?”

  “All I can say is sorry,” he said, not lookin’ at me directly.

  “Nigga, do you know what I could do to you?” Milli said, breaking the moment. “Do you have any idea on how many niggas I know?”

  “Yeah, and if I gave a fuck, I wouldn’t be in here.” He paused. “Ginger, hand me the bag, and don’t try no shit. I’ll blow this nigga’s head off,” he said, looking at my gun.

  “Fuck you, shawty!” Milli said. “Ginger, don’t give this nigga shit!”

  Gerron cocked his gun and fired, shootin’ Milli in the arm.

  “Ahhhhhh! You shot me!”

  “The bag,” he said, looking at him then at me.

  “Ginger, give this nigga the bag,” he said, holdin’ his arm. “I sho’ hope you leavin’ town, moe, ’cause I betta never see your face ’round here again.”

  “Well, maybe I should take care of you right now and you won’t have to.”

  “Gerron, please,” I said softly. “Don’t shoot him again. I’m gonna give you what you came for.”

  Milli bit his lip, and I slowly walked toward the bag. I still felt the sting of Gerron’s betrayal. Then I saw the pillows on the floor, which were reminders of our love session, and I grew angry—and then my house phone rang.

  I moved to answer it, and Gerron said, “Don’t do that, Ginger. Bring the bag. I gotta go.”

  “Don’t say my name outta your mouth again, nigga!” I said with the phone in my hand.

  “Ginger, don’t make me—”

  “What? Shoot me? Go ’head, Gerron, ’cause I don’t even give a fuck no more!”

  Gerron looked at me and said, “Why you gotta make shit so fuckin’ difficult? You knew who I was when we met.”

  “Yeah, but I ain’t wanna believe it was true.”

  When the phone rang again, I decided to answer. “Hello.”

  “Ginger, bring me the bag, I gotta bounce!” He was frustrated, but so was I.

  “Wait, or fuckin’ shoot me!” I said, covering the phone with my hand.

  I placed my head to the receiver, and someone said, “Can I speak to Ginger?”

  “Is this Rhianna?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, but I’m ready to tell you who I really am now.”

  Despite everything that was goin’ on at that moment, I still wanted to know. “Go ‘head.”

  “My name is Melissa Rice, but everybody calls me Melli. And Stevie is my mother.”

  “Melissa Rice? Which one of Stevie’s daughters are you?”

  I saw discomfort in Milli’s eyes, and I wondered why.

  “Ginger, hang that shit up and give this nigga the bag,” Milli interrupted. “I ain’t got no time for this shit right now,” he said, blood pouring outta his arm.

  “I’m her middle daughter. The one you think is retarded.”

  Silence.

  “Melissa, tell me what you gotta say. I’m busy right now.”

  “I want to tell you . . . I want to tell you . . . that my father is Milli.”

  My heart beat fast and my eyes found their way to Milli’s face.

&nb
sp; “What you mean Milli’s your father?” I said loud enough for him to hear.

  “He’s my daddy, but I don’t see him all the time, not as much as I want to anyway.”

  “Melli,” I repeated. Sure as the breath went in and out of my body, Milli’s skin looked flushed, and I knew she was right.

  “Who the fuck is that on the phone? Somebody lyin’ on me again? I told you to stop believin’ these bitches around here.”

  And then I remembered, earlier in the day when I told Milli about the fight with Trixy, he said, “Why you can’t walk away from the ordinary and step up when necessary? You actin’ young and dumb, always believin’ these bitches when they tell you I fucked them.”

  Either he already knew about the fight somehow, or he fucked her, because I never got the chance to tell him the details before he made that comment.

  I swallowed hard and said, “I gotta go.”

  Milli looked uneasy, not angry like he did when he first came home. Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. All the lies, all the games, had finally caught up with him. I spent all this time bein’ with a man who couldn’t give a fuck about me, and the entire neighborhood knew it.

  “Is Melli tellin’ the truth? Are you her father?”

  “Have you forgotten we gettin’ robbed?”

  “We ain’t gettin’ robbed, nigga. YOU are!” I yelled. “Now, I need to know and I need to know now, are you the father of one of Stevie’s kids?”

  “No,” he said sternly. For some reason, I was temporarily relieved.

  “I’m the father of all of her kids.”

  I stumbled back and was just about to fall against my glass table when Gerron caught me. He had the gun in one hand and my body in the other.

  “You a’ight?” he asked, holdin’ me up but makin’ sure to keep his eye on Milli.

  “Yeah . . . I’m just. I’m just . . .”

  “Stupid!” Milli yelled. “Why the fuck you worried ’bout what I do wit’ somebody else? Look at everything you have ’round here. Look at the whip you drivin’ and the purses in your closet. You don’t want for shit! Any other bitch would kill to be in your shoes.”

  My chest tightened. I gave up everything for him, and it was all for nothin’! I snapped, and the next thing I knew, I was wavin’ wild punches in his face.

  Gerron whisked me up and held on to me until I calmed down, but I smacked him in the face too. I was angry at everybody! I was angry for givin’ a fuck, and I was angry for not bein’ able to see Milli for the man that he was.

  “Before I die, I’m gonna make sure you wish you’d never put your fuckin’ hands on me! After all the shit I did for you, to keep you outta jail.”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, to keep me outta jail? You sell crack, not me!”

  “I’m out,” Gerron said, grabbin’ the bag. “I’ma leave y’all to it.”

  When Gerron moved toward the door, I felt like I could barely breathe I was crying so hard.

  I swallowed hard and said, “Take me wit’ you!”

  Both Milli and Gerron looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “What?” Gerron said. “You don’t even know where I’m goin’.” But I saw in his eyes he was considering my request.

  “Please . . . I can help you . . . maybe be a lookout or somethin’. But ain’t shit in Kentland for me no more.”

  “Ginger, you need to calm down and relax. You actin’ real dumb right now,” said Milli.

  I ignored him, took two steps closer to Gerron, and said, “I’m beggin’ you to take me wit’ you. I don’t even care where we goin’. We connected tonight, Gerron, and I know you got feelings for me.”

  Silence.

  “Look, I know stuff is messed up for you and your peoples, but my lifestyle ain’t for you and a kid!” he said angrily. “I gotta go.”

  With that, he held on tight to the bag and backed out the door, with the gun aimed in our direction. When the door closed, I felt my chances of escaping go with him.

  “You’s a stupid bitch!” Milli laughed, standin’ up. He reached for the phone. “Got a nerve to get mad wit’ me ’cause of some bitches I fucked.” He said “bitches” and I could only imagine how many. “There’s a luxury tax when you fuck wit’ rich niggas like me. You gotta recognize that shit.”

  In that moment, my memory came flooding back to me. I remembered being this upset and standing in this living room. It was him all along. . . .

  Six Months Earlier:

  Carolyn pulled her Cadillac in front of her daughter’s house in Kentland. They were home one day early from vacation.

  “Baby, you sure you don’t want to stay with me another night? I hate you leavin’ so soon,” Carolyn said as she parked in front of her house.

  “I’m sure, Ma. I wanna surprise Milli.”

  Ginger’s mother sighed and looked in the back seat at her granddaughter, who was sound asleep.

  “So what time are you gonna pick her up on Friday?”

  “I’ll be there in the afternoon,” Ginger said, grabbing her bag. She reached in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I had a good vacation with you.”

  Carolyn smiled and said, “Me too, baby, and I don’t want y’all fighting tonight. Call me later.”

  When she pulled off, Ginger turned around to look at her house. The lights were off, but she could see the glow from the TV. She waved at Gerron, who was sitting on the steps smoking a jay. He jumped up and rushed toward her.

  “Hey, hang out wit’ me for a sec,” he said anxiously.

  “Not now, Gerron. I just got back in town.”

  “Ginger, please. Just for a minute.”

  “Later, Gerron,” she said, going inside her house.

  When she opened the door, she saw the back of the sofa in the middle of the floor. The TV was on. She smiled when she saw Milli’s back raise up, the glow of the TV lighting his skin. Then she saw a woman’s pink fingernails rubbing Milli’s back in ecstasy.

  “Damn, y’all feel good,” he said.

  There were eight shoes scattered everywhere.

  “Milli!” she said, walking farther into the house. Milli jumped up, and so did the woman he was fucking.

  She was devastated when she saw her best friend, Leona, naked and by his side.

  “Oh my God. Ginger, I’m so sorry!” Leona said. “Please forgive me.”

  All Ginger saw was Leona and Milli, no one else.

  “Fuck you doin’ here wit’ my man, bitch?” she screamed. Turning her attention to Milli, she said, “And what you doin’ wit’ my best friend?”

  “It’s not what you think. You been gone for a week and we missed you, so we were talkin’ ’bout you, and one thing led to another,” Milli said. He threw the covers over the couch and looked down again.

  “And so you fucked my best friend!”

  Ginger pulled the gun out of her purse and said, “Why, Leona? You were my best friend.”

  “I’m sooooo sorry,” Leona sobbed.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough.” She fired a bullet into Leona’s head. Her body dropped on the floor with a thumping sound.

  When her body fell, Nicky and Stevie, who were also there, popped up off the floor. Ginger refocused on the shoes and saw they were from four different people. Stunned, she ran outside, lost her balance, and hit her head on the concrete.

  After pulling Ginger inside, Milli, Nicky, and Stevie, who were also in the house participating in the sex game for money, buried Leona’s body in Virginia. Milli did not want her found with his DNA. Leona would never be seen again.

  ***

  When I remembered what happened, I was angry all over again.

  “It was you that night! You fucked my best friends . . . and I caught you.”

  He smirked and said, “So you finally remember, huh?”

  “You fuckin’ bastard! You dirty-dick bastard! Why?”

  “Because I can, and you wasn’t supposed to come home that night!” he yelled. “And I did you a favor! You
murdered that bitch and I got rid of the body. You should be on your knees thankin’ me right now!” he said, gripping his arm. “You realize how much time you would’ve gotten? And I got the gun you used in case you ever act up. That’s why I bought you a new one.”

  I grabbed the new gun he was talking about and busted him five times in the chest. He fell to the floor, and more blood oozed from his body. He was a holeyass mess.

  “What you say, Milli? I’m what?” I asked, standing over top of him. “You said earlier that someone would kill to be in my shoes. I guess you was right.”

  I grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contact list. I had to get my baby. I found Tracey’s number and called.

  “Milli?” Tracey said anxiously. “We need to talk.”

  I could tell by her voice that she was fuckin’ him.

  “Tracey, it’s Ginger.”

  She laughed and said, “So you finally got the guts to call me? Well, I’m glad. And just so you know, I plan to raise Denise wit’ my husband.”

  “You fuckin’ your cousin?”

  “No, bitch, he lied to you and me ’bout that shit. I’m not his cousin; I’m his wife.”

  I realized then I didn’t know shit about Milli, and I felt like shootin’ him again.

  “I gave Milli somethin’ to hold for me close to his heart. You’ll find out what later.” I laughed. “I’m on my way to pick up my baby. Have her ready.”

  I hung up, grabbed my purse, and dug into his pockets for money. His eyes were closed, but I knew he was still alive. He’d be dead soon.

  I walked outside and took all of the money out of his Range Rover. After I finished, I was up fifteen thousand dollars. There was no turning back, and I was officially on the run. His uncle Kettle was gonna kill me when he found out. Oh, well.

  Before I got lost, there was one last stop I had to make.

  Gerron

  I knocked on the door of a run-down house up the street from my block. Bodie rented a room from this crackhead and paid her by the day. I guess they were gettin’ high together.

  “Who you?” a little kid asked, opening the door. He scratched at his ashy knees.

  “Is Bodie here?”

  “Yeah. Wait out here,” he said, slamming the door in my face.